The Hungover Games
by BadAssPoet
Summary: Just some harmless fun with The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Warning: Contains many swears!
1. Chapter 1

**Don't forget to review even if you hate it and you want to verbally abuse me! :)**

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I, Katshit Everbitch met my hunting partner, Gay and we made a causal exposition of the plot.

"So, it's the reaping in like a minute," Gay giggled, "you're gonna DIE!" I laughed with him, you have to laugh at the Games...It's easier for the author to write with her limited range of emotion.

"Yeah...then the games. They sure are a bloody fight to the death where there is only one winner," I giggled, then became sad. And ANNGGRRYYY! Angry at the capitol. Angry at the games. Angry at Prim for leaving the toilet seat-up this morning. Angry at Gay. I hit Gay.

"Ow!" said Gay.

"Sorry, Gay...I'm just very, very angry."

"Yep. That's what keeps you from being a Mary-Sue..." then Gay himself randomly started pouting and smouldering, which meant he was angry too.

"This is the worst picnic...EVVVEERRRR!" I screamed in angst. Gay agreed and stopped spinning Prim on the spit. I went home and put some slap on in preparation for the EXTREMELY HORRIFIC reaping that is FULLLL OOOFFF ATMOSPHHHHERRRREEE! RAWWRRRRRRRRRR!...And take a free coupon for KFC and Mac makeup below!


	2. Chapter 2

"_...Primrose Everbitch,"_ called Effoff Trinket. There was a gasp of horror from the crowd who, I was quite frankly surprised to hear care. You'd think by now, since it's been around the whole of their goddam lives, and therefore completely second-nature, they'd have stopped huffing and puffing at everything like their trying to blow someone's house down...THE CAPITOL'S THAT IS!

Naturally, I was licking barbecue sauce off my fingers and not giving a caca, when I heard Effoff ask where exactly Primrose was. My blood ran cold.

"Oh, please, no, TAKE ME INSTEAD!" I cried out. Keeping Prim's gnawed leg-bone at a low-profile. "PLEASE...NOT HER...ANYONE BUT HER...IN FACT, FUCK EVERYONE...ME!...ME!...IT'S ALL ABOUT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I crowd-surfed to the front, hiding my tears (that I'd cried from laughing.) It was only when I got to the front that I thought,  
"Oh, bugger, I'm gonna be in the games."

Heybitch started dancing around like Elvis, before tripping up and rolling around on the floor, with his tongue hanging down to his knees. The paparazzi went mad. Yes, there are paparazzi in the future. No child support, but lotsa paparazzi. Effoff helped Heybitch up.

"And now the..." And Heybitch fell right on top of her. The microphone fell with them, so the whole audience heard her bones breaking. There was a dead silence. Dead as Effoff Trinket who was dead. She died...(hmm, I need to make it clear to the reader when somebody has actually died...Ooh, I know! A CANON! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG! Harhar, where do I get my ideas? Oh yes, from every single book that was ever written...)

Since, Effoff was dead, (R.I.P EFFOFF TRINKET, WHO IS DEAD, AND WAS KILLED BY HEYBITCH), Heybitch announced the opposite sex'tribute.'

"_...Pee Tamellark!" _No, not him. Anyone but him. We have a backstory. It's really sweet, like, one time he gave me bread even though his Mom was totally gonna hit him with a frying pan, like. But he still, like, gave it to me, like. Isn't that cute, he's so cute, like. And think I like, like him, but I kind of don't, like. Cause, like, I don't really know, like, but I kind of like Gay, like. And like he's sweet, like, but would I go there like? I don't know like...It's a real love-triangle, like. And a lot of people, like, say they're like totally the same, and I'm like STFU! There are like so many distinctions. Pee makes bread and Gay makes...beds...

Next it was time to sit in a room, and say goodbye to people. On account of me eating her, I doubted Prim would come. Selfish cow. Then we would go to the capitol. And make preparation...for the Drinking games.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for your comments everyone! You all ROCK! And honestly, I don't mind malevolent comments either! hehe**

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"Youch!" said I, as my fruity-named stylist completed the bikini-wax. He looked a bit worn-out, so I gave him a treat to cheer him up. He licked my hand, and went on to my hair.

"How are you feeling, Katshit?" he asked, and put on my lipstick.

"Um okay."

"Dammit!" he screamed as my 'um okay' smudged the art of putting lipstick on.

"Don't you think, seeing as there was a massive apocalypse and everything, that people would really care if my lipstick's smudged?" he began brushing my teeth.

"Well, since only North America, very randomly named 'Panem', spit," he held out a bowl and I spat in it."..Is left, our culture is now 100% capitalistic and materialistic. So the Political notion of apocalyptic savagery is apparently not relevant and it all seems whimsically Apolitical..."

"So, your saying that this book is only really relevant to Western culture?"

"...If by relevant you mean, 'dats wot its like on TV!'...do you think any Americans would buy this book if it wasn't about them?"

"...I suppose not," I said and glared into the distance moodily, as my stylist began work on the bra side of things.

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I saw Pee and waited with him before the parade.

"OMG, you're wearing the exact same thing, innit!" I screamed.

"I know...I hate this dress," he commented. Soon the fruity-named stylists came up to us.  
"Good luck, Katshit and Pee," they thought about this for a moment. "Wow, you two do go together!" My stylist leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Soon the parade began.

We strutted across the stage, as people screamed. It was like being on The X-Factor...except someone was going to survive. I laughed, smiled, twirled, laughed, smiled, twirled, laughed and smiled. And twirled. I was getting dizzy. But I was famous. I was beautiful. I was amazing. _Haha, haha. Hahahahahaha_. I turned to Pee, to share a 'haha, look at us, we're superior human beings,' laugh and the next thing I knew I was being soaked by water from a bucket that he was holding and throwing at me. I froze as Pee put the bucket down and smiled, waved, pointed and laughed at the cameras. Grr!

Later, backstage, I grabbed Pee and hit him over the head with a dead-squirrel.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"...You...You were on fire."

"...What?"

That was when it all became clear to me. When my stylist leaned in, he'd been holding hair tongs. They had reacted to my body glitter (and the gasoline on my panties), and set me on fire. It all made sense. Can you imagine the catastrophe? Thank goodness Pee saved me. The whole of Panem would have remembered me as 'Katshit, the girl who was on fire." That would have been awful. People would think I was an absolute idiot!


	4. Chapter 4

**Gosh, you guys are the bomb!. Oh and I heard you can get awards for these things. PLEASE NOMINATE ME! I come from such a small town...ect.**

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I was stuffing my face with the food the capitol was feeding me (similar to the way the media is feeding US!) when suddenly I noticed Pee hadn't touched his Soylent Green. And wasn't there. And that I loved him (hmm...not yet! I need to play with the mouse before I eat it...the mouse being the reader and me eating them meaning me taking their money. HARHAR! MAMAS GONNA BUY A NEW BABY!) So, I went looking for him. And found him...(...is this going okay?)

"Why aren't you in there eating...you need to eat. Eating rocks," I said.

"I'm not hungry," Pee replied moodily. "...I don't want to die, Katniss."

"It's Katshit! How dare you call me Katniss, what a horrible name for a person!"

"...PUT A SOCK IN IT!" he screamed. I then turned and found him gazing calmly into the sky.

"Didn't you just yell at me?...Why do you luck such consistency in your character?...is it because the author doesn't understand the opposite sex?"

"...There are no rules in the games, you know."

"Well, actually for a game with no rules, there are actually quite a lot of rules and I find that annoying, and I think the author wasted a huge oppur..."

"SHUT UP OR I'LL FUCKING STAB YOU!" he screamed. I then turned and he was filing his nails. I had to ask.

"Pee...do you have any form of personality?"  
"Well, yes," he replied. "In the same way that Homer Simpson does or Scrappy-Doo or Lady Gaga...I mean, I don't have a formulaic personality in the way that you have. You know where your angry and overreact to everything."

"HOW DARE YOU BRING MY DEAD PARENT INTO THIS!" I screamed and slammed the door...I hated him all the way up the stairs then slammed the door there too.

The next day, it was going to be the games (eeeeeek, IT'S GONNA GET SLIGHTLY MORE EXCITING! (but predictable)). And I slept all through the night. Cause I'm effin hard!

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**Next chapter will be the DRINKING GAMES, before the next morning, when the real games begin...$$$$$**


	5. Chapter 5

**Heya! **

**Mixed reviews, but that's all good, and they've all been very well-expressed and helpful, so thank you everyone who reviewed and keep reading/reviewing!**

**Here's the point when the parody kind of takes on a form of plot, the humour will still be thrust in your face left right and centre, but it will probably be more plot-driven.**

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**~The Drinking Games~**

It all happened so quickly...I don't know where to start.

Well, first we all took a snort of Absinthe...then sat down. On one side of me was Pee. And on the other, a 12 year old girl named Woo. She reminded me of my sister. I dunno what it was...that innocent look in her eyes as she peered into the empty glass in front of her. Her stupid name. The fact she was a one-dimensional, cardboard cutout of a child to manipulate the readers. I don't know. But as the Absinthe trickled down her chin...I just knew...She was going to be annoying.

Woo handled the spirit like an Eastend bloke, and Pee didn't even cry. My eyes flickered nervously around the room, many of the other tributes looked tipsy. Some looked like they were trying to hide it, while others had their heads slumped on their emaciated District whatever arms. A district 1 named Liposuction (yeah, the career names are MEANT to be stupid!) couldn't handle the Absinthe and collapsed, before the gong (yep there's a fucking gong! I'M SO SUBTLE!), we knew she was a goner.

A man, who'd clearly had plastic-surgery (yes plastic surgery, the media and reality TV all survived the apocalypse….AARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH! *rips out hair*) bashed the gong and shouted.

_"Let the drinking games begin."_

And down came a selection of milkshakes. It's vital to get at least one soft drink, or else you might not get past the first round...of course, you know this, seeing as I'm doing a first-person narrative, I'm assumably not talking to someone from the past, so why am I fucking explaining everything, since it's the most famous show on earth?

The careers took all of the chocolate milkshakes first, as they do each year. I began to panic, as I knew I could not survive with vanilla, (which obviously move the slowest, no matter what time period it is.) Blood splattered the table (after the banana is taken, many become violent over strawberry.) Two boys from one of the 'I don't care' districts were wounded. I started to panic as I saw a sea of vanillas. As I choked back tears and reached out for one, I felt a gentle nudge from beside me. I turned and saw Woo offering me her carton of Mango. I grabbed it immediately, almost ripping off her tiny hand in the process. I breathed heavily, Mango milkshake in hand. As thick, scarlet blood filled my cup.

The bartenders were putrid-skinned cadavers. The capitol had made them into robots for drinking games purposes. It's not clear why they were killed in the first place, but it's difficult to get an answer from them...believe me, I've tried.

_Down in one. _

_Down in one._

_Down in one. _

_Down in one. Slurp of milkshake. Done_.

There was a clatter of bodies hitting the floor. I looked around. I didn't think I was dead, so brilliant.  
"That was easy," I said to Pee. He looked forward and didn't reply. Woo started choking. I patted her on the back.

"Thank you," she cooed.

"It's okay," I said. _Fucking sissy_, I thought.

"Congratulations!" announced the plastic man. "You have all passed the drinking games." There was a tremendous roar of applause...from a sound-effects cassette tape the Capitol had placed in their Capitol ghetto-blaster. "You will now be escorted to the arena."

I finished slurping the milkshake, because hey, a free drink's a free drink and I'm fucking poor! When suddenly I felt something odd disappear down my throat along with the last few drops...I wondered about it for a minute, before following the fruity-named stylists and tributes to the arena.

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**Hmmm...mystery. And of course, the real games begin next chapter. Hopefully I'll see you then if you still care haha! XD Thank you all again for your kind words. **


	6. Chapter 6

**It's been a while. Thank you very much to all of my readers and reviewers, it's been mostly positive, (but after all, all great art is controversial :PPP XD) you've been fantastic! I just wonder where I'll go from here when this finishes. I might write something serious...or I'll have to find another book to take the piss out of? Not too sure XD But a sincere thank you to all! **

**~ Shakey :P**

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I stood on the podium. I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. (Tense enough yet? I can do this all day $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$!) And waited. And waited. Suddenly I turned to Pee...was he...did he just...scratch his balls? The gong sounded and everyone rushed.

"No!" I shouted. Damn Pee! He threw me off target. On purpose! Damn his itchy balls! DAMN THEM! And the rest of him, also damn the rest of him! It's not just his balls I'm angry at...this goes much deeper...

The weapons came down. Knives. Guns. Saws...Bows and arrows...I didn't care I had to get out of the Cornucopia (big word :D *gives self a gold star*) When I suddenly noticed a squeaky pork-chop. NO! I HAD TO HAVE IT!

"Hey! That's mine!" shouted Sweatermeat, District 1. I hit her over the head. She fell to the floor, giving her last squeak...oh no, that was the pork chop. BANG! Canon. Dead. RIP. Move on. A UFO came and picked up her dead body, (which happens all the time...) and I ran into the forest. I was tired. I needed water. I fell to the floor, crawling. Ah, my lungs. My lungs hurt. Gonna die. Gonna die. Gonna die. Dying...

"You drama queen!" I heard a voice. A familiar voice. A surprisingly effeminate voice. PEE!

He took my hand and we sat on a nearby bench for a breather.

"So..." said Pee, popping open his can of beer. "...You know this whole love triangle...thought about choosin' one of us yet?" I flicked my long brown hair out of my eyes, moodily. Then drank my cognac moodily.

"Ask me when I'm not drunk," I said, belching moodily. Pee sighed.

"But, Katshit...tomorrow it'll be even worse..." he reminded me. "...We'll all be Hungover..." he started to stammer with fear. He choked it up and took another sip. We both froze with fear.

"...Well it's difficult to choose. Pee or Gay? Gay or Pee? I was talking to Gay about it and...well...he says he thinks your gay." Pee snorted.

"Well he's a pile of pee," he took another swig.

"Your kind of the same person in a way, though aren't you? I mean it's not like one of you's a werewolf and the other's a vampire," I clutched my drink. This conversation was hurting my heart. Oh no...it's just gas. BELCH!

Pee saw the camera approach us and pulled me towards him. I understood what he was doing and I kissed his nose. We put our arms around one another and we both gave a thumbs up. As the camera moved away, I pushed him off.

"So, we're pretending to be a couple?" I groaned.

"Yep...nothing like romance to water down a horrific bloodbath," he smiled sipping his beer. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. Water-down.

I stared at the cognac in front of me. I HAD TO FIND A CANAL. I HAD TO WATER IT DOWN! It's my only chance of not being hungover. I jumped up.

"I'm just going to..." Pee collapsed on my part of the bunch, dribbling. I shrugged and continued on my journey...of feminism.


	7. Chapter 7

I eventually found the canal and added water to the cognac. Suddenly I heard a rustling in the trees. I turned. Woo fell to the floor. Pisshead.

I turned her over. Tears in my eyes. I clutched her hand, crying so much it was like I was the one dying. Because I'm SELFISH.

"Katshit," she choked. "Sing me a song."

"No," I said and then put her out of her misery by breaking her neck. I burst into tears over her little dead body.

"Why? WHHHYYY?" I cried, shaking her. The UFO was going to come soon, to take her little body away. But I was angry. I wanted her death to be different. I wanted the capitol to know, that a person had died. So I stood up and began work.

2 minutes later

I looked down at her and smiled at my work. She lay, at peace, with the unforgettable words '_Katshit Wos Ere'_ spray-painted onto her little dead face. I walked away, proudly, then suddenly I thought.

"Wait. That doesn't say anything!" I ran back to see her little body was gone. "Oh shit!"


End file.
